


the princess and her knight

by annejumps



Category: Split (2016), Split - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Historical, Casey is a princess, Dennis is a knight, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:43:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10059746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: Casey is a misfit princess, and Dennis is the knight who's sworn to protect her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the following [prompt](http://split-kink-meme.dreamwidth.org/518.html?thread=774#cmt774) at the Split kink meme:
> 
> Dennis is a knight and Casey is the misfit princess he's sworn to protect.
> 
> Possible plot: Her uncle murdered her father for the throne and he's abusive to Casey; people know but nobody says anything because he's the king now. Casey is pretty sure of what her uncle did, but can't prove anything. Dennis is a disgraced knight, and it's a joke to Casey's uncle that he assigned Dennis to guard her.

No one ever called her Cassandra—she was Casey for as far back as she could remember. Mousy Casey, the quiet, misfit princess. A joke in the court, more content to be alone in her chambers than attending balls. 

Of course, the real reason she preferred to be alone was an open secret—her uncle, now the king after his brother’s mysterious death, was cruel to her. They preferred to forget her, and she preferred to be forgotten about. Soon enough, her uncle would marry, and then his children would be next in the line of succession—Casey would be forgotten about yet again, and better off dead in the eyes of many, no doubt. 

One quite clear sign of her value at court was the fact that the knight sworn to protect her was considered a laughingstock. Oh, Dennis was strong, and capable—but he was strange, antisocial, quiet—and something in his past had cast him into disgrace, although she’d never been able to learn exactly what that was. “A perfect match for you,” her uncle had joked coldly, when he’d assigned Dennis to be her personal guard. 

Dennis did not seemed thrilled with the assignment either—he was standoffish, avoiding looking in her eyes when he could, even moreso than he would with someone of her status. Really, it seemed as if he did not like her very much at all, although it seemed he didn’t like anyone—he never smiled, his face usually creased in a frown, and he folded his arms most of the time, looking stern. He barely spoke. Of course, it wasn’t his task to be friendly—it was to watch over her, and he stayed by her side faithfully, that was true. Every night, he was outside her door.

That would make her plans to leave more difficult.

For Casey was planning to leave this place. She was considering seeking refuge in the neighboring kingdom, where lived the woman her uncle was going to marry—she wanted to tell her what he was really like, so that no one else would be doomed to live with him as she had been.

But first she’d have to get past Dennis.

\-------

It was the wee hours, and Dennis stood at his usual post next to Princess Cassandra’s bedroom. No one else was in the hall in this wing of the castle, as usual. It was dark except for the torches. 

He stood silently, thinking. Trying not to think about the princess, and once again failing, as he did every night. Since she’d become a young woman, he’d been her guardian (although his appointment was considered a farce), and he was in her proximity at almost all times, except when her uncle the king called her to speak with him. For some reason, Dennis was forbidden to accompany her then, and though he noticed how pale and subdued she was after such meetings, he could ask her nothing, and certainly couldn’t say anything to the king about it. Dennis was not in good favor at court, due to a mistake he’d made years before, and had no leverage or cards to play. Many considered him better off dead. Really, he only stayed on here because his assignment, as much of a joke as it may have been, was very important to him. 

The princess—Casey, as she was known—was everything Dennis wanted, and nothing he could have.

She was beautiful, of course. Well, most people at court didn’t seem to think so—Dennis had no idea what was wrong with them. Casey was exquisite, from her long chestnut hair, her enormous, wide brown eyes, cupid’s-bow mouth, and long, pale, elegant limbs. It seemed many found her looks mousy or unfashionable—her curves were more pronounced than the slim delicacy that was considered the height of fashion, her doe eyes too large and her lips too obvious, when smaller features were favored. But to Dennis, she was perfect, half his age or not. He’d never touched her, barely spoken to her, but he followed her faithfully like a dog, kept near her like a shadow, as much as he could….

Suddenly, interrupting his thoughts, the door next to him opened.

Dennis was immediately alert. The door was being opened from the inside—the princess was leaving her chambers.

“Your Highness,” he said, bowing to her. When he raised himself, she was looking at him consideringly, brow creased, biting her lip. She was wearing her cape, and holding a sack that looked to be heavy.

“Sir Dennis. I was hoping you’d be asleep.”

“I’m never asleep on watch, my lady. My duty is to protect you.” He was aware of his heart racing. She almost never spoke to him and never tried to leave her chambers in the middle of the night. 

“I’m…. Dennis, I’m leaving tonight. Please, don’t stop me.”

He stared at her in shock. “Leaving? Leaving… why? Where are you going?”

“I can’t stay here anymore, Dennis. I… I don’t belong here. I need to leave.”

“You….” Dennis swallowed, mouth gone try. He folded his arms. “Your Highness, you can’t leave.”

Her eyes welled with tears. “I have to, Dennis. Please.” 

“I’ll go with you,” Dennis found himself saying, the sudden despair in her big dark eyes melting something in him. “You’ll need protection. You can’t go alone, wherever it is.”

She looked at him for a very long time, silent, clearly thinking.

“I’ll carry everything for you,” he offered.

She nodded just slightly, and he tried not to sag in relief. No, he must seem unmoved, simply saying what was sensible. Because it was sensible—there was no way the princess could possibly survive out there on her own, wherever she was going.

“All right,” she finally said, “you’ll come with me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey and Dennis leave the castle.

“Quickly,” she said, turning to go back into her chambers. “I didn’t put much into my pack because I thought I’d have to carry it all myself. I’ll need more. I’ll gather it.”

She’d never said so many words to him at once as she had this evening. He’d also never been in her chambers before—as such, he was trying not to make his curiosity too obvious as he looked around her sitting room. Roaring fire, shelves stacked with books, parchment spread out over tables. Unlike himself, the princess could read and write very well. He knew she was very intelligent, and that she would spend hours curled up in alcoves reading, as Dennis kept watch nearby. She glanced at him at times, and Dennis would have the oddest feeling that she was on the verge of reading aloud to him or telling him something from whatever she was reading. But she was a very quiet girl, and she never did.

He followed her to the door of her bedroom, staying just outside, trying not to look in at her bed. She hurried about the room, gathering more things for another bag. Evidently she was already prepared enough that it didn’t take her long.

Dennis cleared his throat. “We’ll need... a tent,” he told her. “Do you have a tent?” 

She looked at him, and shook her head.

“I do,” he said. “I’ll get it and meet you here.” He considered suggesting two tents, for propriety’s sake, but he doubted he could carry more than one, especially if they weren’t going to take a horse…. In fact, even if they did manage to get a horse, more than one tent would weight them down if they were fleeing. He wouldn’t sleep inside it, regardless—the single tent would be reserved for her. He’d sleep outside, on the ground.

Dennis did have quarters; he slept there while the princess ate her breakfast and was dressed for the day by her ladies, and began her studies. The castle guards watched her then; Dennis preferred keeping watch outside her door while she slept. He didn’t trust anyone else to do it. His quarters were a good distance from hers, and he went to them with utmost speed and quiet. 

He imagined for a split second riding with Casey behind him, arms wrapped around him to keep herself steady, and inwardly groaned. The princess was so innocent, so untouchable by the likes of him… he couldn’t let himself start thinking that way about someone so pure. Instead, he focused on getting quickly and quietly to his room and gathering what he needed. Luckily, he hadn’t amassed much. His room, though sparsely furnished, was as clean and neat as he could possibly make it, and it was the work of a moment to find what he wanted, including the tent, and pack. 

On his way back to the princess’ chambers, he considered whether it was likely they’d really be able to take a horse. It would certainly be easier; he even had one that came to mind. He was jokingly known as The Beast, but was as gentle as a lamb; the princess had ridden him before (she liked to ride on hunts), as had Dennis. He was aging, and probably would not be much missed.

Returning to the princess’ rooms, he found her waiting outside for him, her cloak secured and her bags in hand. He took them in his free hand. “We’ll take The Beast,” he told her, low, and she nodded. Silently they began to make their way to the stables. 

Undetected, they went through a side door, to find the stables empty. Together, they saddled up The Beast as best they were able and loaded the saddlebags, and left the stable, moving quickly. It wasn’t as if anyone would really miss them, but they might miss the horse. 

Dennis was concentrating very purposefully on getting out of the castle grounds; they galloped past the guards at the gate, who didn’t pay much mind to who was leaving, and who probably didn’t recognize them in their cloaks in the dark, regardless. It wasn’t until they were a mile from the castle gate that Dennis allowed himself to think about the fact that Casey’s arms were wrapped tightly around him.

They rode for what had to have been at least an hour, not saying a word, Casey’s hold around him never loosening. He reflected on how natural it felt to be quiet with her, but of course, it wasn’t surprising given that he’d been silently by her side for years.

Dennis was starting to feel the pangs of hunger. He knew they were heading toward a stream, and there was a clearing between it and a copse of trees he remembered—that would be a good place to eat and rest. They’d build a fire and have some dried meat and figs, and then he’d find out from the princess where she was planning to go. And then they’d sleep for a few hours until dawn.

He stopped the horse in said clearing, which was more or less as he’d remembered it, all lit with moonlight, and dismounted, holding his hand out to assist the princess down. When she took it, he felt a shiver all through him.

“I’ll build a fire and set up the tent,” he told her. “We need to eat. We need rest.”

She nodded in agreement. “I’ll get out the food.” As she went to the packs lodged in the saddlebags and searched through them, Dennis unloaded the folded tent, set it down, and tied the horse to a tree. There was no time or light to kill a rabbit or fish, but perhaps they’d have a chance in the morning.

He built the fire first, to warm them and give them more light to see, and once he’d done that he set up the tent. The princess sat next to the fire, watching him.

“Eat,” he told her. Looking down at the food in her hand, she did.

With the tent set up, he took his portion of food from her outstretched hand and sat across the fire from her. As the night was cool, she still wore her cloak. They ate in silence. 

“Sleep now,” he said, as they finished their last bites. She blinked at him, swallowed, and nodded. “I’ll stay out here, by the fire,” he told her. After a pause, she nodded again, and stood, doffing her cloak. She carried it to the tent, and then stood in front of it; watching him shyly, warily, she reached behind herself with her free hand to loosen her maroon-colored kirtle. Dennis stared back, keeping himself very still, hoping she couldn’t tell his heart was pounding. He folded his arms, trying to look impassive.

She loosened her kirtle’s ties and drew it off, and in her simple linen shift knelt to crawl into the tent, her clothes gathered in her arms to be used as bedding. The flap closed and she was hidden from his view, but what he’d seen of her stayed in his mind: her long dark hair cascading over her nearly exposed shoulders, the soft swell of her breasts under the thin fabric of her shift.

He was reminded again of his shame—what had made him a joke at court. His prior ward had been a girl named Claire, the king’s younger cousin, and one evening he was caught spying on her undressing. It was far from the first time he’d done it—she was a very beautiful girl—and he’d been unable to stop himself. The word spread, and that combined with his noted tendency to stare too long at the young girls at the balls gave him a reputation, one that, he knew, made the king’s appointment of him to be Casey’s guard a joke. Since he’d been assigned to her, however, he’d tried to be good. The princess was beautiful, but he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable with his presence.

He took a deep breath, and willed himself to stretch out in front of her tent and sleep. Just before he drifted off, he realized he’d forgotten to ask her where she was planning to go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A vagrant attacks.

Casey woke suddenly, to the sound of scuffling and muffled yells. She sat up, pushed the tent flap aside and looked out to see Dennis grappling with someone in the moonlight. 

The strange man held something that flashed—a knife. He cackled, sounding as though there was something wrong with him. As she scrambled to her feet, the man slashed at Dennis with the knife, although thankfully he seemed clumsy and unskilled. 

Picking up a rock, she ran toward the man with a shout. Dennis was strong, and had nearly overpowered him to throw him off. Casey’s sudden approach sent the man squirming to get away, and then dashing off.

They stared after him, and then looked at each other. Casey, chest heaving, was suddenly conscious of standing barefoot in her shift, feeling as though it would slide off her shoulders any minute. She realized, however, that Dennis’ lips were pressed together, his nostrils flared as if in pain.

“Oh! Did he hurt you?” she asked. 

“Just… cut up my back a bit. Nothing—” he began, gesturing at his torn shirt, but she was already moving to stand behind him.

“I’ll clean it. Take your shirt off,” she told him, and he blinked at her, but obeyed.

She went to get some salve and rags from her pack, and dampened the cloth in the stream. When she returned, he was sitting before the fire. She’d never seen him without his shirt before, and something in her was a bit fascinated by the sight. But there were more important things at hand.

The cuts were not too deep, but they were seeping blood. She wiped it away with one of the damp cloths, and he hissed, very quietly. “I’m sorry,” she told him, soft. She knew all too well how even the smallest cuts could sting. 

He cleared his throat. “It wasn’t a big knife.”

She nodded, although he couldn’t see her. “Still, you’re lucky.”

“Should have been wearing my leathers,” he said, voice tight, as she kept dabbing at the blood, her free hand on his back to steady him. “I wanted them on the ground so I’d have something to sleep on. I don’t like dirt.” He cleared his throat again. “Didn’t think there’d be anyone out here this far, this late.”

He sounded angry; her fingers stilled. “It’s my fault,” she said. “You wouldn’t be out here if it weren’t for me.”

He turned to look at her over his shoulder, and she froze. His face was so stern…. But then, it always was. She never saw him laugh or even really smile. 

They looked at each other in silence for a few moments. He finally said, in a more gentle tone than she’d ever heard from him, “My duty is to protect you, Your Highness. If I didn’t want to do that, I wouldn’t be here.”

It seemed as though she couldn’t break the gaze between them. But then he turned back to face forward again, and she remembered her task. She pressed the cloth against his skin, wanting to tamp further bleeding. 

It was true—she hadn’t really thought about it, but if Dennis really had wanted to leave, he could have, long ago—in fact, given his reputation at the castle, it was surprising that he hadn’t. He could have left, but he stayed to protect her. 

No one, no one else at the castle cared that much. Her ladies seemed to merely tolerate her, as was their duty; her tutor seemed to like her, but only when she actually did her work. Her father had loved her, but he had died over a decade ago. Her mother had died soon after she was born. Her uncle… well. 

No one was truly by her side except Dennis. He could have let her escape by herself, or taken her back into her chambers and locked her in. But he didn’t.

His voice broke her reflections. “Where are we going, princess?” he asked, quiet.

“I want to seek refuge in the neighboring kingdom,” she replied, after a moment. The blood had been dabbed away and the bleeding had mostly stopped; she began to dab on some salve to stop the rest of the bleeding and to promote healing. 

The air was filled with the sense of him waiting for her to tell him more. She tore some strips of muslin to wrap around him to prevent any further bleeding and cover the salve, hoping he wouldn’t ask what she knew he was about to ask.

“Why?”

Her hands stilled once more, and she paused a long time before speaking again. “The king is…. Despite how he may act in court, he is... not a very kind man. Not to me.”

She started to wrap the muslin around him, aware that he was keeping still and holding his breath, as if she were a bird or some other animal he was trying not to frighten. 

“He doesn’t allow me into his meetings with you,” he said, his voice sounding rough with suppressed emotion, the intensity of it surprising her. “I should have insisted. I’m sorry.”

“He’d have you dismissed for disobeying his wishes,” she said immediately. “It’s not your fault.” She tied the muslin. “I want to warn the woman he’ll be marrying.”

Dennis cleared his throat. “You know… you know what’s said about him, don’t you, princess? It’s said that…” He paused a long time. “It’s said that he murdered your father so he could take the throne.”

“I know what’s said,” Casey replied. 

He turned around to face her. The look of understanding and compassion in his clear blue eyes was like none she’d ever seen regarding her before. 

Holding in a breath, she kept his gaze for a very long time. She kept very still, mouth dry, not even blinking. The world seemed to narrow down to those blue eyes looking back at her, and suddenly it was too much.

Abruptly, she stood, and swayed on her feet, stumbling briefly. He caught her, steadying her, a hand on her hip. She couldn’t hold back a gasp, closing her eyes for a moment at the feeling of his hot hand through the thin material of her shift. She stepped back, blinking.

“Thank you,” she said, breathless.

“No, Your Highness, thank _you_ ,” he returned, voice a rasp, eyes wider now. He blinked and cleared his throat, expression changing to his normal frown. When he spoke, it was in his usual low tones. “Princess, go back to sleep. We have a few more hours before daybreak. Then we’ll get you to where you need to go.”

She nodded, stood, and walked to the tent. 

Wrapped up in her cloak and kirtle once more, Casey tried to go back to sleep, but something in her wished Dennis was in the tent as well, keeping her warm and close, instead of keeping her safe outside. While she wasn’t particularly afraid for herself, Dennis had just demonstrated why it had been a good idea for him to come along….

Dennis. He’d been silently beside her for years, yet she’d never really, truly seen him. She’d certainly never touched him, and he’d never touched her, before they left the castle. 

She thought she could still feel the warmth of his hand on her hip.

Finally, she drifted off into sleep. Her dreams flickered over the smooth skin of his back, the way the muscles moved under it, the way his deep voice rumbled through him when he spoke to her and how it reverberated through her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis discovers Casey's secret.

Neither of them said much the next morning, or really for most of that day. They broke camp and rode out early, stopping for a quick meal when the sun was highest in the sky and letting The Beast crop grass. As the sun lowered, the day grew overcast, and soon enough the evening looked as though it would be a wet one.

An outcropping of rocks at the side of the road that they approached as rain started to fall was large enough to have an overhang that the tent would fit into, but only just. Dennis set up quickly, having tied The Beast under a small grouping of trees, and the princess helped as best she could. Dennis took off his leathers to prepare to sleep on the ground outside the tent—not something that he was particularly looking forward to, as he strongly disliked mud and muck—when he heard the princess’ voice.

“In here.”

He looked over to where she was crouched in the tent, just behind the flap, her eyes as dark as ever in contrast with her pale skin.

“Your Highness, I’m fine out here.”

“I order it,” she said. “You’ll catch your death otherwise.”

Well, if she ordered it…. He put his leathers back on and crawled in alongside her. This would not be a problem, he told himself. They rode on horseback together in close proximity for hours at a time and it was fine. This would be similar, only lying down…. 

The princess moved to lie down then, watching him silently, in just her shift with her kirtle under her for bedding, the cloak mostly pulled over her but not entirely; he could still see the gentle swell of the tops of her breasts. Frowning, not wanting to seem too rushed or at all eager he laid down as well, facing her, hoping she couldn’t tell how loud his breathing was. 

“How is your back?” she asked. 

“It’s fine,” he reassured her. “That salve you used, whatever that was… that really took the pain away.”

She nodded, a bit of a sad, wry look in her eye at his remark. He wondered why. “I’ll take the bandages off tomorrow.”

A crack of thunder startled her, and she jumped. The movement caused her shift to slide down her shoulder, and Dennis caught sight of raised pink scar, in the shape of an x, and a round one next to that, pronounced enough to be visible in the low light.

“What—”

She caught the line of his sight and hastily tugged at the linen; the movement, in its lack of precision, actually caused her to show more of her skin there, what would normally be hidden by her clothing. There were more scars, a whole string of them across her perfect skin, marring it like some horrific jewelry. A horrible realization hit him.

“Did he— Did he do that to you?”

He heard how strangled his own voice sounded, his difficulty and incredulity in speaking the words.

The princess had frozen, staring at him. Tears formed in her eyes, and he felt that like a stab in the gut.

“He did do this,” Dennis confirmed.

“Most of it, yes,” the princess answered, voice thick.

“Most of it.” Dennis took a deep breath, pressing his lips tightly together, feeling his face going hot. “Your Highness. I have failed you. I have failed to protect you from him.”

“You didn’t know,” she whispered. “No one knows, only my ladies. They’re sworn to secrecy.”

“I’ll kill him,” Dennis said, nearly alarming himself with the calm certainty in his own voice. 

“No,” Casey said. “You can’t kill a king. You’ll be hanged. Dennis, I can’t let you do that for me.”

“I’m sworn to protect you, Your Highness. Has he done anything else to you?” 

He regretted the grim question almost immediately. More tears welled in her eyes and slid down her cheeks; she bit her lip, and said nothing until, hoarsely and very softly: “Yes. Since I was very small.”

Dennis breathed out sharply through his nose. He shook all over, a fine tremor of anger, and clenched his fists again and again. He knew that if the king were here, he’d kill him. Behind his nearly overwhelming fury was his reeling horror that much of this had taken place under his watch, that he’d failed her, that he’d failed, she’d suffered and been hurt because he hadn’t realized—hadn’t known—couldn’t stop—

Unbidden, he remembered slaps across his face, shouts. Kicks. Hands that should have cared for him, a voice that should have spoken kind words but which never did. His scars from those years were ones that could not be seen.

“My mother,” he said, and then started again. She blinked at him, listening. “My mother was not kind to me,” he continued, and then left it at that, swallowing down anything else he might have said that was locked in his throat. 

“Dennis,” the princess whispered, and rested her hand on his chest. He closed his eyes against her searching gaze. The heat of her hand radiated through the material of his shirt. Saying nothing more, though his eyes were closed he didn’t let himself sleep until he heard her breathing change to a slow and steady rhythm.

He woke when the sun had risen. The rain had stopped; it was bright. The princess was sleeping soundly with her head tucked under his chin, her hand still on his chest.

As on the previous morning, they said almost nothing to each other as they ate and packed up again. They would arrive at the neighboring kingdom today, and as they rode, Casey’s arms tight around him, he realized this would be the last day of them riding like this. The princess was almost certainly going to send him back as soon as she gained asylum. 

Why would she need or want him to stay with her, after all?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis and Casey arrive at the queen's castle.

Casey usually sat upright when she rode behind Dennis, keeping her eyes on their surroundings, but today she was so lost in thought that she didn’t realize she was resting her cheek against his back until the sun was high in the sky. The rhythm of the horse’s gait and the reassuring warmth of Dennis’ back might have lulled her to sleep on any other day, but there was too much on her mind for that.

Today they’d reach the neighboring kingdom, and she planned to not only ask for asylum, but to warn the queen against a marriage to her uncle—a long-awaited and expected alliance. She did not think she was making a mistake, but the risk was enormous, she knew. If her request was refused, if she was not believed, there was nowhere for her to go. 

She’d be on her own.

Even in a castle filled with people, however, she usually felt alone. In fact, sometimes she did whatever she could to get away, to hide, to sit in silence. Hovering nearby, she realized now, had always been Dennis—at least in the past few years. But looking after her was his job, as he’d said, and his job would soon be at an end. If she were granted asylum, he wouldn’t be needed to stay on; if she weren’t, she wouldn’t be able to pay him. Either way, he’d be leaving.

She thought of the look on his face when he’d seen her scars. It had obviously hurt him to see them—not only had he felt as though he’d failed in his duty, it had reminded him of his own past. Surely he wouldn’t want to stay with her regardless, not when every time he looked at her he’d likely be reminded of his own failure and pain.

But before that, he’d looked after her—tried to, at least—when no one else had, and that had to count for something, even if it meant she might not see him again after today. And knew she’d miss him, even though he wasn’t really hers to miss.

“Thank you,” she said suddenly.

“Mm?” She felt his sound of inquiry rumble through her, and closed her eyes.

“I just said thank you,” she answered.

He was quiet for a while before replying. “It’s my duty, princess.”

Yes, of course.

\-------

Casey had wondered what their reception would be like in the next kingdom, at the castle. They wouldn’t reach it until evening, so she had plenty of time to wonder now. She didn’t know if she would be recognized, but in her worst-case scenario, her uncle had rode ahead to intercept her, counter her accusations, and forcibly take her back. Perhaps Dennis would protect her, perhaps not, given the fact that when all was said and done, the king was not only a king, but his employer. She would like to count on him, but she could not be completely sure. Yes, he carried a sword, but he was but one man.

The sun was lowering in the sky, and Casey realized how tired and aching she was. She truly hoped she’d be granted shelter, if only for one night: a chance to sleep in a real bed, to eat a hot meal, and to perhaps bathe and wear a clean shift. She could ask for that, at least. She could be sent away afterward, but just one night of rest would be something. Yes, at the castle she’d lived in for so long she’d had those creature comforts, but her uncle was there as well, and at least she’d have one night of all that without him anywhere near….

The castle loomed in the distance, outlined starkly against the sky, and as they approached the torches at the gatehouse became visible. Taking a deep breath, Casey started to mentally rehearse what she would tell the guards.

As they got closer, she realized the small number of guards on horseback before the gate were wearing the colors of her own kingdom. They had to be the king’s, her uncle’s, guard. And unless there were more inside the castle walls, this was not even the full complement—of course he wouldn’t send or bring his entire guard, but only a handful sent a message. She wondered if he himself were here, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he was not, since after all, he would want her to know she wasn’t worth the trouble of stopping her himself. There would still be, of course, enough of them to stop her or take her back.

But she had no plans to surrender.

“By King John’s decree,” the leader of the guard called to them as they approached, “we are to take his niece, Princess Cassandra, home with us.”

“No,” Casey whispered, fingers curling in Dennis’ shirt. The Beast kept trotting forward. 

“I warn you, do not keep us from entering the castle,” Dennis called, steel underlying his voice. “The princess seeks asylum here and she will be granted it, upon my life.”

The guards drew their swords, positions firm, blocking their way to the gate. Casey gasped, tensing, preparing to leap from the back of the horse and run at them herself.

Then Dennis drew his sword, across his body from his hip, and brandished it. The Beast snorted, dancing in place, agitated.

“You will disperse and let us pass,” Dennis shouted.

The three guards spurred their horses, and began to charge down the bridge toward them.

“Yah!” Dennis shouted to The Beast, digging in his heels. The Beast began to gallop, straight for the guards. Casey held on tightly.

And then they were racing past the three of them, galloping full-bore for the open castle gate. Casey turned as they went under the archway, watching her uncle’s guard wheel around and turn back, watching as the gate’s heavy closing doors narrowed her view of them as The Beast kept going. He reared up, snorting, in the courtyard, as the queen’s guard approached them, one of them taking hold of his reins as Dennis shushed him, patting his neck to calm him down.

“We seek audience with the queen,” Casey called over the din, as Dennis sheathed his sword.

\-------

The queen was dark-skinned, with kind eyes. She sat before Casey on her throne, watching her somberly, considering what Casey had just told her. The hall was dark and quiet, torches glimmering on the walls, her guards and ladies standing silent. Casey had been allowed to approach the throne to state her case where others couldn’t hear, and was grateful for the privacy allotted her.

“So,” the queen mused, “you have reason to believe your uncle murdered your father. He’s been exceptionally cruel to you. And thus you seek asylum here, and you advise me against marrying him.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Casey whispered, throat dry. “Please.”

“Granted,” the queen said, and Casey exhaled, shoulders going limp. Was it really that easy?

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she gasped out.

The queen gestured. “Lady Marcia,” she called to a girl not far away, “take Princess Cassandra to my chambers, have her fed, bathed, and dressed. Have the rooms in the South Wing prepared for her.”

“What about Sir Dennis?” Casey asked, looking back to where Dennis stood far back by the door to the hall, watching.

The queen said to her guards, “Take Sir Dennis to the guards’ quarters. He can dine and bathe there after his long journey bringing the princess to safety, risking his life.” She nodded graciously to him. Dennis nodded back.

\-------

Casey ate right away, glad to finally be full again, and a hot bath was drawn for her. Lying back in the warm water, surrounded by fragrant steam with the ache melting from her bones, she closed her eyes and felt tears well up, sliding hotly down her damp cheeks. She was warm, fed, safe, clean. Lady Marcia, a pretty girl with dark hair, said nothing about her scars; she’d been at the queen’s side when Casey had shown some of them to the queen as proof, and was not shocked at their extent.

Looking at her scars in the bath, she thought of Dennis—that morning, she’d gone to change his bandages, but when she’d taken them off (averting her eyes from lingering on his form) she’d seen that her salve had healed them well. There was no need to rebandage. Because the cuts weren’t as deep as hers, they’d probably fade rapidly. She didn’t know if hers ever would, but she was no longer as bothered by that.

Lady Marcia combed out her hair, and braided it, placing a delicate gold circlet on her head. She offered to line her eyes with kohl and put berry juice on her lips, and Casey accepted, grateful for the small attentions, superficial as they might be. Casey was dressed in clean underthings, richer clothes than she was used to, and a deep red embroidered silk gown. She’d requested not to be dressed in nightclothes just yet, because she wanted to go see Dennis. Just for a visit, she said. To say her goodbyes.

Before then, however, she was taken to her new chambers in the South Wing. The bed was ready for her, and a fire was lit, heating the room for when she returned.

Lastly, she asked Lady Marcia where the guards’ quarters were, so that she could find Dennis, and told her goodnight, dismissing her for the evening.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey has something to ask Dennis.

Dennis had a bath, which he was extremely grateful for—there was nothing like washing off the mud, dirt, and dust of the road and watching it swirl away in the water. He had eaten heartily. And this would be his only night in the castle here; tomorrow morning he’d strike out for parts unknown. He obviously wouldn’t be welcome at King John’s, since he’d attacked his guard and accompanied his niece in her escape; the queen had not asked him to stay, and he wasn’t presuming he was welcome. The important thing, he reminded himself, was that the princess was safe.

The bed was comfortable enough, and although it was cold in here he was clean and fed; he stretched out and tried to sleep. It was late, and he needed to be ready to go tomorrow morning.

He was nearly asleep when there was a knock on his door.

At first he thought he was dreaming. It was not a pounding, such as a guard might deliver; it was almost tentative. Dennis stood and opened the door.

In the torchlight of the hallway, the princess stood, looking at him silently. She was still flushed from her bath, hair combed and pulled back with a few braids in it, a golden circlet glinting in the light; her eyes were rimmed with kohl, her lips dark. Her elegant dress was deep red. She was beautiful.

And he’d have to leave her.

He swallowed hard. “Yes, Princess? Is something the matter? Are you all right?” He kept his voice low; it seemed untoward for her to be here.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I just wanted… to speak with you.”

“Here?” he asked. The quarters were tiny and unheated, and asking her in seemed like a bad idea; he didn’t want her stay here to be jeopardized by impropriety. Yet talking in the hallway didn’t seem feasible.

“Come with me,” she said, and what could he do but follow?

At this hour of the night the castle was quiet, at least in the passageways they took to get to her new chambers in the South Wing.

There was a roaring fire in her sitting room, which was sumptuously decorated. He remained standing, waiting to be told to have a seat, or if it pleased her, to continue standing while the princess said her goodbyes to him before he was dismissed. 

She was always beautiful to him, but with her so clean and nicely dressed (she tended to wear very simple, almost drab clothes, her hair long and often hanging in her face, as if to obscure it) he found himself thinking that soon she’d be married off to some likely young lord, and his heart sank. He cursed himself—he was a knight, the princess was, well, a princess, and he was far older than she was—she was only eighteen. Loving her from afar could never have ended well; he knew that, he’d known that. Yet he couldn’t stop himself, and might always love her.

She hadn’t sat down, and hadn’t asked him to, either. She looked nervous, actually. 

“Princess?” he asked, folding his arms, frowning in concern. Maybe something was wrong, very wrong. “Are you all right? Do you not want to stay here after all?”

“No! No,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, yes, yes, I do.” She laughed suddenly, and sniffed, and he realized her eyes were welling with tears. 

“Princess?” He stepped closer, and stopped short, not sure if his closer presence was welcome.

“I….” The princess swallowed. “I presume you’ll be leaving tomorrow?”

Dennis nodded. 

“What if….” The princess took a shaky breath, and closed her eyes for a moment, her tears glimmering in her thick lashes. She opened her eyes and looked at him with a new conviction. “What if I asked you to stay?”

“I serve at your will, Princess.”

“No, I mean… would you want to stay?”

“As your guard?” Dennis swallowed. What did she mean?

“Yes, if you wanted to be…. Dennis, what do you want? Do you want to stay here… with me? To stay with me?”

“Yes,” he said, honest. “If you want me here.”

“I do, I do.” The princess seemed to sag in relief, with a brief laughing sob. “Dennis, you’re the only person who’s ever looked after me, who’s ever truly cared about me in so long.”

“Princess— You—” How to tell her she deserved more than him, that he was too damaged, too old? “I won’t be the only one, you—” _You’ll have lots of admirers_ , he wanted to say, but faltered.

She placed her hands on his arms. “Dennis. You didn’t have to come with me. You didn’t have to stay with me this far. I thought you just wanted me to be safe, but… it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

He looked at her for a very long time, aware of how much harder he was breathing. Finally, he nodded, conscious of the feeling of her hands on his arms. She withdrew them, and he steeled himself for her telling him he was inappropriate, and needed to leave after all.

She leaned in, and pressed her lips to his. 

Dennis froze for several heartbeats, astonished at the feeling of her soft lips on his own. His hand went out to her side on impulse; he realized too late that this put his thumb just under the curve of her breast, and they both inhaled. She drew back, blinking at him, lips slightly parted, looking apprehensive; and then, to his renewed astonishment, she kissed him again, more firmly this time. He wondered, dazedly, if he wasn’t dreaming.

Parting his lips to take a breath, he felt her tongue brush against his own, and the ensuing rush of heat and feeling to his groin drew a moan from his throat. Gently but decisively, he pushed her away, and she blinked at him, cheeks flushed and eyes dark. Oh, she was so dangerously tempting….

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding breathless, evidently uncertain about his hesitation.

“No, no,” he said, throat dry. He took a deep breath, and swallowed. 

He couldn’t resist reaching out to cup her cheek. God, she was exquisite. He was keenly aware of the feel of her soft skin against his hand. How warm she was. He wished he could wrap her up in his arms, hold her, he hadn’t held anyone in so long—

He drew his hand away. He shouldn’t touch her—he’d already gone too far as it was. 

“I’ll—” he began. He cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you now.”

“No, stay,” she said, taking his hand, drawing it toward her to rest at her side again.

“Princess,” he breathed, shaking his head. “No, no. You don’t want this.”

“I do,” she said. “Please, please touch me.” 

Oh, God. He stepped closer as he drew her against him, tight and close, hearing her gasp as he kissed her again. On her gasp, he tasted her, that sweetness that had been forbidden for so long. Her arms wrapping around him, she groaned softly, breathlessly, as he kissed her more deeply. 

He broke the kiss just to take a breath, and looked at her searchingly. She was wide-eyed, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and he nodded, arching a brow, wanting agreement. She nodded back.

He swept her up like she was nothing and carried her to her bed; her arms latched around his neck. He laid her down gently, folds of rich red fabric billowing up under her, and stripped off his shirt; the fire had made the room sweltering, making him all the more ready to take off his clothes.

Watching him, she unlaced her bodice; as he turned to her, she sat up to pull her dress off, in only her gathered blouse and underthings now, kicking off her shoes. He could see the scars that traced over her shoulders and the top of her chest; overcome suddenly, he climbed onto her bed and pressed his lips to one on her shoulder. He kissed the next one, and the next, tender as he could be, until he realized she was lying back and looking up at him. Blinking, she pressed against his shoulder to make him sit up once more, and he went.

Eyes locked with his, she unlaced and pulled down her blouse, slowly; he broke the gaze as she revealed every scar, the sight of each one of them sending an echo of pain through him. He reached out a shaking finger to trace them, and then realized she was taking the garment off, leaving her bare from the waist up.

He swallowed, staring. Her breasts were perfect; he gently cupped them, hardly daring to believe that he was touching her smooth skin, and when he slid his calloused thumbs over her nipples he watched them harden for him, hearing her exhale, a tiny sound that made him bite his lip.

She laid down again, and taking the cue, he bridged himself over her, mouth returning to trace her scars—he wanted to soothe every single one—before he slid down to glide his tongue over the curves of her breasts, and then her nipples. She whimpered when he took one into his mouth and sucked at it, gasping when he released it with a pop; he gave the other the same treatment, and she cried out, clutching at his closely-shorn head. Looking up, he met her gaze, making sure she was all right, and she nodded frantically.

He nuzzled at her again, loving the way she responded to him here, skin flushing pale pink and her nipples darker now. She squirmed whenever he ran his calloused fingers over the breast he wasn’t currently teasing with his tongue, and he relished her increasing restlessness. But she could send him away right now and he wouldn’t mind; this was more than he’d ever dreamed, ever. Every second was a gift, a treasure.

“Princess,” he murmured, breath gusting over her skin, “if you ever want me to stop, tell me. I’m at your command.”

She said nothing. He kissed a path down between her breasts, down her stomach to her navel. He pulled at the laces that were keeping on her underthings, drawing them down her hips as she raised them up to aid him, and then stopped.

The princess had more scars, all across her hips.

She was sitting up on her elbows, watching him, her eyes filled with tears once more.

“Even here?” he asked, hating to think what that might mean.

She nodded. She was tense, perhaps expecting his horror.

“Oh, Princess,” he sighed, a vast aching gulf of grief in his mind, for her, for himself. She’d been hurt—she’d been hurt so much, she’d hurt herself, she’d known such pain. He had the feeling her body, to her, was pain. “I never want to hurt you, ever,” he told her. “If you want me to leave now, I will.”

“Don’t leave,” she said, after a moment. More confidently: “I order you to stay.” He almost didn’t hear it when she whispered “Erase him from my mind.” He thought they both knew that wasn’t possible, but he was going to do his damnedest to try.

He wanted nothing more than to show her how perfect she was, what pleasure her body could bring her. If she didn’t know, she needed to.

He calmed himself, and carefully drew off her underthings and skirts, taking his time, eyes eating up the sight of her being revealed to him. Soon she was bare but for her stockings, until he drew off those as well, leaving her completely naked, blushing all over, and restless.

Dennis bent his head to kiss the scars over her hips and abdomen, gentle and slow, tracing them with his fingers. Shifting his body, he slid his palm over her hip, down around the back of her thigh, gently pressing it to open her to him. Moving down the bed, he kissed his way to just above the thatch of dark hair.

He looked up at her. “Princess?”

“Please,” she gasped. “Yes.” If she wasn’t sure quite what he was doing, she wanted it, regardless. She moved her other leg, and his fingers gently parted her slick, pink folds. She gasped again, shifting some more, seemingly not knowing if she wanted to sit up to watch him or lie back. His tongue touched her and he heard a thump as she dropped back onto the bed.

He traced a slow path with his tongue through her delicate folds, tasting her salt-sweetness, until she was squirming, arching up, instinctively trying for more and firmer contact. He gave it to her, pressing his tongue against her, finding that nub that made her cry out. He kept prodding it, sucking at it until she spread her thighs wider, hips pressing up to his mouth as her fingers clutched at his head, followed by her thighs squeezing him as she climaxed, shuddering hard.

As soon as she released him, he sat up, looking at her. She blinked up at him, red all over, breathing hard. “Dennis,” she said. Her circlet had become lost at some point, her braids looking somewhat more unkempt against her mass of thick, dark hair spread out on the bedding.

“Your Highness,” he said, biting back a smile. He could taste her on his lips; she watched him absently lick them, chasing the taste.

“Don’t you want….” Trailing off, she glanced down at his tented breeches. At his inhalation she met his eyes again. “I know enough of the ways of men. I’ve read books.” She smiled, wry. What she might have known of men because of her uncle was left unsaid, and Dennis again quashed the murderous rage he felt toward the man.

“Princess, I serve you, I protect you. This is no inconvenience for me. If you wish me to leave, I’ll leave—”

“I’ve told you to stay.” She sat up, breasts bobbing, and to his shock cupped her hand over the swelling in his breeches. With fumbling fingers, she unbuttoned them, drawing out his cock with her delicate hand as the fabric fell to his thighs. He was so hard by now that he throbbed, and the sight of him in her hand had him closing his eyes to get himself under control. She took her hand away, only to press both on his chest until he was lying back, startled into opening his eyes again.

She straddled his hips, hands pressing his shoulders down, her wet softness nudging his straining cock. He looked down as she raised herself up and, with one hand, parted her folds and then took hold of him once more, positioning him at her cunt, something he thought he’d never see, let alone taste, or touch, or know with his cock.

“Princess,” he warned, voice hoarse, “you’ll be hurt, you’re a maiden—” and she merely returned his gaze, inscrutable, and sank down onto him, slowly and with difficulty, shifting her hips to try and make it easier. Finally, arching her back, she sank down onto him completely, and through his haze he tried to identify the look on her face—wincing in pain? tight with pleasure?—and couldn’t decide. He moved his hand to massage that little nub with his fingers, and felt her flutter around him. 

She moved on him, seemingly experimenting with the feel of him inside her. His thumbs traced the scars on her abdomen, hands framing her hips as she moved up and down; he slid up her sides to cup her breasts again, fingertips tracing over her nipples. She tilted her head back, starting to pant, her own hand finding her nub of pleasure as she began to softly groan, finally tightening and fluttering around him with a cry, eyes closing tight and then opening wide.

“Princess,” he got out, close to losing control, straining to rock his hips upward until he held her hips again and rolled her onto her back. She gasped in surprise, but adjusted quickly, wrapping her legs around him, straining upward to meet him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he thrust into her. He felt her fingertips glide over the healing cuts on his back. Overwhelmed as he was, it didn’t take long until he was groaning, shuddering, pressing his face into her neck as he came, emptying himself into her.

Not wanting to crush her, he raised his weight from her as soon as he’d gathered his wits enough to do so; with her knees framing his hips, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, a sweet innocence in it despite everything that made his heart ache. Oh, he did not deserve her, and never would; he’d tried so hard to better himself, but he was not good enough to refuse the gifts she’d given him.

“I must go,” he breathed between kisses. “I don’t want your lady to find me here.” Soaking up the feeling of her warm bare skin against his own, he didn’t want to think about leaving her for his chilly, damp quarters, but he knew he had to. He turned his head and kissed her palm. 

This couldn’t happen again, he told himself as he got up and buttoned his breeches, as much as it crushed him to admit it. She’d be married off soon, as befitted someone of her ranking, and he couldn’t risk getting her with child, assuming he hadn’t already. He’d been foolish to give in to his temptation. She’d been so brave to escape her uncle in the first place; he couldn’t trap her again. He’d stay and serve her despite the pain it would surely cause him, day in and day out, watching her and remembering what she was like here tonight. Oh, he’d stay. If she never even spoke to him again, he’d stay, if she willed it.

She turned on her side, watching him, hands folded underneath her cheek. Lying naked in the bedclothes as she was, soft glowing curves and shadows in the firelight, he had to stop and just look at her, in case this was the last time he saw her like this.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told her, a hand to his chest. His words felt foolish, too simple to describe how she looked there, watching him with large dark eyes, raised red scars across her pale skin. 

“I don’t think you should go,” she said quietly, eyes widening. “I think you should stay with me. You’re sworn to protect me, after all.”

Dennis paused, folding his arms. Was she teasing him? There was a twinkle in her eye. “You surely wouldn’t come to any harm here, with a bolt on the door,” Dennis said. “Should your lady attack you, I don’t doubt your ability to vanquish her,” he added, amused.

She laughed, dimples showing. He so rarely had seen her laugh.

“There _is_ a bolt on the door, so my lady cannot find you here with me,” she pointed out. “If she should knock, for all she knows you came to wish me good morning.”

“As you command, princess, I will stay,” Dennis said gravely, and climbed back into bed. “But I must ask you to put on a shift. You’re far too tempting for me naked.”

“It’s too warm for that,” she countered, amused.

“You may get colder as the night wears on.”

“I doubt that,” she returned. “You’ll be keeping me warm.”

“How can I argue with you?” he wondered aloud.

“You mustn’t try.” She turned over, facing away from him and moving back against him, pulling his arm over her. Evidently she did want to sleep, at least for the time being; her breathing evened out and he was content to wait until she was slumbering, his bare chest against her bare back with his face buried in her hair, to fall asleep himself.

He was awakened some time later by her shaking in his arms, sobbing hard but clearly trying to be as still as possible so as not to disturb him. He loosened his hold for a moment, but she squirmed back against him, pulling his arm over her more tightly. “Princess, Princess,” he murmured, sitting up slightly to kiss her temple. “Are you sure you don’t want to be alone?”

She looked at him, eyes wet and cheeks tear-streaked. “Stay,” she croaked. “I need you.” She turned over onto her back, arms going around him, and they held each other for some time like that, her wet face pressed into his neck as he murmured to her.

“You’re safe. You’re free,” he whispered. He figured she had been so on edge lately, so restricted and anxious, that finally escaping had caused a sort of collapse that had finally caught up with her. If she wanted him to know the exact cause for her weeping, she would tell him. 

Regardless, she seemed relieved he was awake with her. Her sobbing slowed eventually, and she drew shuddering, sniffling breaths. “You’re exhausted,” he told her. “Sleep. You’ll feel better. I’ll be here.” Nodding, after getting comfortable with her back to him again she closed her eyes and drifted off.

He fell asleep again as well, remarkable given that he had a naked young woman in his arms.

Sometime close to dawn, he blinked awake, and meet the princess’ gaze; she was looking over her shoulder at him. She pressed back against him, in the process making them both aware of the fact that his breeches were tented. She rolled over to face him, in so doing reminding him that she was in fact still naked, and silently regarded him, a hand sliding down his front.

“Princess,” he murmured, rapidly becoming more awake, “we shouldn’t,” as she started unbuttoning his breeches. Her brow creased in a frown; she was pouting. He couldn’t stop himself; he kissed her. “I don’t,” he said between kisses, feeling his control slip away as his need became more frantic, “I don’t want to get you with child.” That was a lie. At the core of his being, he did; it was a terrible idea in reality, however, this he knew.

She exhaled as she stopped to look at him, breaths coming faster and her cheeks a bit flushed, expression starting to be stormy indeed.

“There are other things,” he added hastily, sliding a hand down her front to cup her sex. 

She gasped, closing her eyes tightly for a moment and spreading her thighs further for him. Parting her folds, he stroked and teased her in the ways he had learned she liked, watching her face as she bit her lip, lashes fluttering as she curled her hands in the bedclothes, his hard cock forgotten for the time being as she sought her own pleasure—and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

As he gently probed her with his fingers, it didn’t escape him that she was still slick with his spendings—in fact the realization had him perilously close to coming again. But he waited until she peaked, twice that he could tell, before guiding his cock to the space at the top of her thighs, getting her to press them together around him, and thrusting there until he groaned, come splattering over her smooth skin. 

They lay together catching their breaths, close as could be, slick with sweat and come. Normally, Dennis would not have been pleased with the mess; he tried to keep as neat as he could. But for her, he’d endure it. With her, it was almost appealing. 

“We ought to dress,” he finally said, voice rough with sleep to his own ears, and she nodded, looking reluctant. “I’ll leave before your lady comes.” No matter how they’d spoken the night before, Dennis still didn’t relish the thought of being found in the princess’ rooms so soon after their arrival. 

“You’ll stay with me again tonight, won’t you?” she asked, and he sighed, pressing a kiss to her forehead before doing up his breeches, wincing, and getting out of bed.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he answered, and was rewarded with a smile.

**_Epilogue_ **

“Princess Cassandra, a messenger has brought you a letter from your former kingdom,” Lady Marcia said as she walked into Casey’s sitting room where she sat knitting, with Dennis sitting across the room at the window, whittling and keeping watch.

Casey stopped abruptly, setting her knitting aside, then exchanging a glance with Dennis as she took the letter from Lady Marcia. He stood, coming to her side as she began to read.

She looked up at him. “My uncle is dead. I am his rightful heir.”

He stared at her. 

“The kingdom is mine,” she said aloud to Dennis and Marcia, shocked. 

Dennis folded his arms, frowning and looking protective, tense. “Do you wish to return?”

Casey stared at the letter for a long time before saying, “My home is here. All that matters to me is that he is dead.” She swallowed. 

Dennis knelt on the floor next to her, and cupped her jaw. “Wife, I will follow you wherever you go. I am sworn to you no matter your decision. You are the rightful queen.”

Casey rested a protective hand on her round belly, where her scars were being slowly stretched beyond recognition, the resultant itching eased by her salve. “I do not wish to see that place again. I do not wish to raise my children there.”

Dennis nodded, visibly relaxing and looking relieved, although he was always so stoic that only she could really tell. “If you’re certain.”

“I am.” Casey set her jaw, resolute. “You sacrificed to bring me here and here I’ll stay.” She turned to Lady Marcia. “Have a message sent, tell them I abdicate.” Lady Marcia nodded, and left them alone together.

“The sacrifice was yours,” he murmured to her, hand joining hers on her belly. “You’ve risen like a phoenix from the ashes. I’ve never known someone so pure of heart,” he added, shifting to kiss her shoulder, just over her scars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it is done! Thank you for indulging my self-indulgence ^_^ This fic owes a lot to the assumption that Dennis, outside of the world of Split and not being manipulated by Patricia, would be a great knight, with his strength, determination, loyalty, and devotion. I'd like to thank Liz the medievalist for handwaving away my vagueness, and Bethany for encouragement and suggestions. :)


End file.
